


My baby sings and it puts me at ease

by OnyourRadar



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Eliott was brave for a second, His baby forgives him, M/M, Music, Neighbors, Nervousness, Sleep Deprivation, Strangers, Then he wasn't, but that's okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 17:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar
Summary: He shifts again, his skin sticky in the humid night air that trickles in from the cracked window. His sheets feel like rubber against his bare arms. Eliott runs a hand through his already messy hair and he chances a glance at the clock. 5 minutes before he’ll fall into a deep sleep. He counts down the seconds and sighs in relief when he hears the first note ring clear.--or--Can you fall in love with someone you haven't met? Eliott seems to think so.





	My baby sings and it puts me at ease

Living in an old apartment building has its perks. There is never any silence of the night that Eliott can use to mull over his thoughts. If anything, there is always sound. He can pick out the dripping of the sink in his kitchen and bathroom, a constant _‘plop...plop...plop’,_ that accentuates the images and words that filter through his mind as he lays in bed. Eliott is sure the aged pipes, hidden behind a thin layer of plaster and ugly wallpaper, creak loudly to ensure that he doesn’t sleep. Because sleep is such a waste of time when he has the city to explore. 

But Eliott doesn’t explore the city most nights. No most nights he rolls over on his small double with the blankets pooled around his knees covering and not covering, all the same. His eyes stare at the blinds that do a horrible job at blocking out lights and under the canopy of the night, the reddish and yellow hues of street lamps splash across his face like a mask for his eyes. The shadows of his lashes elongated against his cheeks. Most nights, Eliott follows the ticking of his clock, a large bellied racoon with shifty eyes and a shifting tail that tells him, it’s 2 am and he should rest because the morning sun will be up soon and he’ll have to be human. 

Yet he doesn’t. He waits. And in his time waiting he hears the shouting of a couple, two apartments down from his. He hears the screaming match, the crying and hurtful words thrown around so carelessly. Eliott ignores the shattering of glass because he’s heard it all before. He thinks he hears a girl, voice high pitched, screaming about London. A lover’s quarrel. Both their patience run thin but their walls thinner. It lasts for no more than 5 minutes before they quiet down.

2 am and there are car horns blaring occasionally and he hears the laughter of small crowds, college students from the local university milling around on the streets below. Eliott breathes in deeply and his nostrils filled with the familiar scent of weed and tobacco. 

_Someone’s happy. _

He shifts again, his skin sticky in the humid night air that trickles in from the cracked window. His sheets feel like rubber against his bare arms. Eliott runs a hand through his already messy hair and he chances a glance at the clock. 5 minutes before he’ll fall into a deep sleep. He counts down the seconds and sighs in relief when he hears the first note ring clear. 

It’s a steady rhythm that builds and oscillates against the four walls of the bedroom just above his. Then he hears it. The heavenly voice that doesn’t belt and isn’t so soft that he can’t decipher the words. Eliott doesn’t know when he started listening in like a voyeur hidden by the cover of the evening and early mornings. But he remembers one particular week, months ago when he struggled to keep himself upright. His days became an enemy and sleep a foreign friend that rarely ever visited him. 

He was exhausted and going on without support for so long at that point in time. Eliott knew he was doing it to himself, refusing to reach out even when he knew he should. On one night, Eliott felt close to breaking. He grew tired of hearing the loud pounding, a knocking on various doors set apart by an undetermined interval. He found he couldn’t bare the laughter that filled the air in the distance. He sat atop his bed, gnawing at his lips till they cracked and bled. At first when his ears picked up the faint notes, a keyboard he thought _(because no way was there anyone who could fit a piano, even a standing one, in these small apartments barely big enough to hold a person),_ he was going to burst from the anger slowly building inside him. 

He scrambled off his bed and went into the kitchen, grabbed at his broom with his heart racing. He felt himself sweat from the energy that thrummed beneath the surface of his skin. His movements jerky. He was back in his room in a matter of seconds. Eliott stood on his bed the handle inches from knocking on the ceiling when the voice that started to accompany the notes gently pounded out, stopped him. A song he didntt know but somehow the haunting melody resonated and Eliott sighed deeply and drops the broom. It clattered to the floor. The music pulsed through him in a way Eliott didn’t think capable. He let out a sigh, exhausted, before lying down. The music doesn’t stop for hours to come and it was early in the morning with the sun peaking through before he realized he was letting a stranger lull him into a state of relaxation that he hadn’t felt in weeks. 

Most nights, since then, Eliott finds himself waiting for the sound of the other. He felt something intimate in their one sided interaction and he was sure he was the only one considering his neighbor had no clue he laid in bed listening and waiting. 

Eliott thinks he might have fallen in love with such a voice. A voice that conveyed everything in the soft notes. A voice that was capable of making his racing thoughts come to a halt. When he closes his eyes, Eliott imagines thin, spindly fingers that move swiftly hitting correct notes in perfect tempo. He wonders how the other’s throat moves, how it might bob as it forces a word out. Does his body sway when he plays, are his eyes closed, what color are they?

Eliott has so many questions running through his mind and he chases the answers, unsure of how he is supposed to find them. He finds it so hard to sleep tonight. He has a need to see and find out so he sits up in bed, legs swinging over the side and feet planted firmly on his wooden floors; cool to the touch. He feels the urgency brimming and spilling over inside him. Eliott is up and out his door before he can talk himself out of it. His feet bare as he walks the carpeted halls. He takes the stairs instead of the rickety elevator that stalls on any good day. When he stands in Front of 622 A, Eliott drops his forehead gently against the door with his eyes closed. 

He breathes in deeply and presses his ears tightly against the cool metal. He can hear the music clearer. Louder. And he smiles. His knuckles brush the door, a gentle caress but refusing to knock. Eliott feels the tension leave and his shoulders slouch, his lips part. The courage he feels moves his fist for him and he knocks out a strong pattern. 

The song comes to an immediate stop and Eliott suddenly questions what he is doing. He straightens himself quickly and backs away from the door. He can hear the quiet shuffle of bare feet and he feels himself kick himself into gear, his flight mode taking over as he bounds down the hall, running. Eliott is through the doors that lead to the stairwell just as the creak of a door fills his ears. He stands on the landing, back against a wall, his heart pumping. Gone was the music he hears and Eliott feels himself drown in the blinding rush. He feels clogged and out of breath. 

When he calms enough he is unsure of how many minutes pass but he feels steady, the ache in his calves subside and he stands to make his way back to bed. His steps echoed behind him and he ducks low enough so he can’t be seen from the small window of the door. Just in case.

Eliott crawls into bed and doesn’t bother to cover himself feeling a dense weariness settling in his bones. 

The music picks up again and Eliott smiles. Sleep doesn't come.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that popped into my brain at 3 in the morning. Not sure if I should continue with this little brain child. I'll let you guys tell me😒
> 
> Excuse my mistakes. I'm sorry. Edit: the amount of grammatical errors. I'm so sorry 🙃
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcomed.


End file.
